Storm in a D Cup
by Dizzo
Summary: The boys Deal with a witch's curse - again … Dean comes off worst - again … are you in any way surprised?
1. Chapter 1

The boys Deal with a witch's curse - again … Dean comes off worst - again … are you in any way surprised?

Disclaimer: I own nothing except my addled mind!

xxxxx

Sam awoke to the sounds of yawning from the bed next to him, he rolled over and glanced across to see the sprawled lump in the bed beside him sway to his feet and stagger across to the bathroom.

"Make the coffee. bitch!" it mumbled as it made it's way.

Sam sighed; he rolled onto his back, and yawned, enjoying a mighty stretch as he did. He decided to make an attempt at getting vertical when he heard the shower start up.

He got vertical very quickly when he heard the scream …

xxxxx

Sam leaped out of bed and smashed his way through the bathroom door with his shoulder to find his brother standing wide eyed and bewildered in the middle of the steamy room, arms wrapped protectively across his bare chest, silently mouthing words which Sam couldn't make out.

He stepped across to his brother and placed his hands on the hunched trembling shoulders. Dean's face looked grey with shock. "S-s-sam" he muttered incoherently, "O-o-h my God!"

"Dude?" Sam stared at his brother, "what's wrong man?"

Dean shook his head slowly, still hugging himself protectively.

"The witch …" he whispered, "the freakin', fugly, hell-bitch … " he tailed off. He looked up at Sam with huge frightened eyes.

"What?" asked Sam, still clutching his brother's trembling shoulders, looking directly into the glassy green eyes, "hey, what's wrong Dude? Why are you hugging yourself?"

Dean shook his head slowly, still trembling violently.

Sam gently took hold of his brothers' elbows, "I'm going to move your arms, OK Dude?" he reassured softly.

The grip of the arms tightened, and the head shaking accelerated.

"C'mon dude? Are you hurt?" Sam's voice took on a sense of urgency, "Let me help."

Dean shook his head violently and tried to back away.

Sam held him tight. "Dean!" he snapped, and grasping Dean's elbows, pulled his arms away from his chest.

xxxxx

Sam's mouth dropped open.

"oh. my. God."

Dean looked up at Sam sheepishly.

"friggin' witch" he said in a small voice.

xxxxx

Sam's experience was relatively limited (compared to Dean's at least), but in his opinion, they were about a double D cup, and really very firm and pert; a pair any woman would have been proud of. Under any other circumstances, Sam would have feasted his eyes. However, after a long and embarrassed silence, he spoke. "How did this happen?"

Dean had bashfully covered himself up with his folded arms again. "that witch we ganked yesterday …" he mumbled miserably.

Sam stared at him, "and …?"

Dean's head bowed, "erm … I might have said something …" he muttered, barely above a whisper.

"What? What did you say?" asked Sam suspiciously.

Dean looked up guiltily. "Um, I think I said something about her having a decent pair of hooters - for a witch"

Sam slapped his palm against his forehead …

xxxxx

tbc


	2. Chapter 2

Dean's situation doesn't improve, nor does his mood. Sam doesn't help …

Disclaimer: still own nothing, however hard I try!

STORM IN A D CUP PART 2

"Dean!" snapped Sam, "you know how your mouth always gets you into trouble!" He shook his head, "you do it every time!"

Dean glared at him. "Friggin' witches, got no sense of humour!" He moved his folded arms slightly away from his chest and glanced down. He looked up with a grimace when he realised they were still there.

"You were about to kill her!" Sam shouted, "of course she wasn't in the mood for a stand up routine!"

Dean sighed, "Finished with the lecture now, Samantha?"

Sam grinned. "I don't know how you can look me in the eye and call me a woman!" The grin turned into a giggle, "I mean, at least I've never been in a position to need a bra!" The giggle turned into a full scale hysterical fit. Dean glared at his convulsing brother, not a hint of a smile cracking a seriously pissed-off scowl.

"it's no good hidin' them." Sam gasped, wiping his eyes between bursts of laughter, "I can still see your cleavage!" he doubled over, sobbing with mirth.

Dean tightened his lips, as well as his folded arms.

"We c-c-ould go out a-a-and buy you a nice evenin' dress to show it offffff …" Sam lost it and collapsed in a crumpled, heap, paralysed with silent laughter.

Dean's glare darkened.

After a moment or two, Sam pulled himself together. He stood up again, wet faced, with little tired giggles still escaping his twitching body.

"Finished?" snapped Dean.

"Uh, yeah" replied Sam, staring at his brother momentarily, then doubling over in hysterics again.

xxxxx

Sam reluctantly brought himself under control again and took a deep breath.

"Hey Dean?" He resisted the compelling urge to say 'Deanna", "do they feel real - can I feel 'em?"

He held out his hands.

"no you friggin' cannot, perv!" Dean brought one arm down to slap Sam's hands away, "they feel real, OK, only they're attached to me and not some hot chick!"

xxxxx

The brothers sat in the motel room, both having endured a cold shower after they realised the thing had been running all the time they had been discussing Dean's 'problem'.

Dean sat, arms folded over a bizarrely stretched T-shirt.

"you can't keep hidin' em forever" Sam called over his shoulder as he brewed coffee, "you'll have to use those arms sooner or later."

"Wrong an' wrong" snapped Dean, "firstly I don't intend to have them forever, and secondly, any stuff that needs doin', I'll get you to do it!"

"OK, how are you gonna drink your coffee, smartass?" Sam turned with the drink in his hand, "or d'y want me to drink it for you?"

Dean scowled. "Bring it over, I'll manage".

"Seriously Dude," Sam reflected, "I've never seen anything like this, I've no idea how we reverse it!"

"Well, get on the internet then, geek boy" snapped Dean, "that looks like your afternoon's booked solid!"

"Yeah, right" countered Sam, "and what do I Google? 'My brother's just sprouted a great pair of bazookas?" he shrugged at Dean, "the only results I'm gonna end up with are fifty thousand plastic surgeons and the Jerry Springer show!"

They stared at each other for a moment.

"I'm gonna have to call …"

"NO!" Dean almost squealed across the room.

"but, Dean…"

"NO, NO, NO. I forbid you to call Bobby!"

"Dean, he can help" Sam looked at the wide-eyed, imploring face directed at him, "he's seen more witches curses than we're ever likely to see"

Dean was frantically shaking his head, temporarily silenced by panic.

"Dean!" Sam became stern, "it's either this, or you keep them until we can save up enough for plastic surgery!"

Dean wilted, and looked down again, yep, they were still there.

Sam picked up the phone, "I'm calling Booby - uh - I mean BOBBY!" he stammered, then ducked as Dean's empty coffee cup flew past his ear and smashed against the wall.

xxxxx

next, Bobby's going to have something to say about Dean's predicament …


	3. Chapter 3

STORM IN A D CUP Part 3

Disclaimer: Still own nothing …

xxxxx

The phone only rang twice before Sam heard Bobby's gruff tone on the other end. "What trouble have you two idjits gotten yourself into now?"

Sam briefly pondered on Bobby's sixth sense, "funny you should say that - we have got a bit of a situation here!"

"What sorta situation?"

Sam looked across at his brother. If looks could kill … "Um, it's a bit difficult to describe, probably easier if we show you …"

"NO" came a voice across the room, "NO, NO and NO! We are not showing anybody anything!"

"Uh, yeah, we'll be with you in about three hours…" Sam confirmed, ignoring his brother completely. He put the phone down.

Dean glared furiously at his brother, then suddenly made a break for it; Sam just managed to slip his foot through the bathroom door in time to prevent Dean from locking himself away.

"I ain't goin' nowhere!"

"You're goin' to Bobby's"

"You can't make me …"

"Wanna bet?"

In the end it was surprisingly easy for Sam to throw his brother over his shoulder; and carry him out kicking and protesting to the Impala.

xxxxx

Bobby opened his door to the two Winchesters, and welcomed them in; Sam followed Bobby into the hall whilst Dean lurked miserably behind them.

"OK, what's happened?" Bobby folded his arms and stared at the brothers.

Sam scraped his hand through his hair and swallowed hard, "erm, this" he stammered, he turned and pointed to Dean.

Bobby stared. "er, what?"

Sam turned to look at the huddled form behind him. He sighed and turned, pulling Dean's arms away from his chest.

"WOAH!" Bobby took a step back. "What the …?"

Dean looked like he wanted the ground to open up and swallow him.

Bobby nervously approached Dean, staring at the unfamiliar lumps under his T shirt, "How the hell…?" he reached out and squeezed one of them.

Dean yelped and leapt backwards, "get ya paws off !" he squawked.

"Witch", explained Sam, he gestured back to Dean, "Motormouth here insulted her; then he shot her".

Dean scowled, "she deserved it", he muttered.

Bobby glared at Dean, "Idjit!" he announced.

"Have you ever seen anything like this before?" asked Sam, "he can't stay like this." He looked at Bobby, "I can't afford to keep him in bras - have you seen the price of them?"

Sam and Bobby both dissolved into helpless laughter as Dean stood and glared daggers at them. "You two gonna help me or what?" he snorted.

Bobby wiped his eyes, "Sorry Dean", he giggled, "I'll have to go and read up on the lore," he glanced across at Sam's poorly concealed mirth, "so I can keep abreast of the situation!"

Dean turned and stomped off up the stairs as Bobby and Sam sunk to the floor in helpless laughter.

xxxxx

The brothers sat in Bobby's kitchen finishing breakfast, when Bobby announced a breakthrough. "Did you happen to make any sort of comment about the witch's - um - boobs?" asked Bobby.

"Well, I might have said something … sorta jokey and harmless," Dean tried to look innocent - and failed miserably.

"Ya friggin' idjit," sighed Bobby, "when ya gonna learn that every time you open that smart mouth of yours, you get into trouble?"

"That's what I said!" agreed Sam.

"Can we get to the freakin' point here?" snapped Dean.

"It's a sympathy curse" announced Bobby, "I've heard of 'em before."

"What?" asked the brothers in unison.

"A sympathy curse". said Bobby, matter-of-factly, "The witch is giving you a taste of your own medicine, kinda like a 'see it from the other person's point of view thing'". He paused as two pairs of bewildered eyes stared back at him, "I remember reading about a hunter who once called a witch a fat old trout. When he woke up the following morning, he was over 300 pounds!"

Dean shook his head in confusion, "OK,I get it; I was bad, I'm bein' punished; so what do we do to get rid of it?"

"Nuthin'" Bobby replied casually, "it's pretty weak magic, normally wears off over a week or two".

Dean's jaw dropped; "normally?" he gasped, "week or two?" He looked at Sam, then back to Bobby, "I've gotta stay like this for as much as two weeks?" He blinked rapidly, "an' whadya mean, NORMALLY!"

"That's what the book says!" said Bobby casually, "perhaps that'll teach ya to keep your trap shut, idjit!"

Dean looked to Sam for support, "hey, it's not so bad bro'" smiled Sam, "we can always put you in touch with the circus and make ourselves a fortune!"

xxxxx

It was on the twelfth morning that Dean woke up to feel the familiar firm planes of his own chest.

He flopped back in the bed, flat on his back, smiling broadly with relief, and with the satisfaction of knowing that those two gloating smart-asses downstairs were gonna suffer royally for the last two weeks.

Payback was gonna be a bitch!

xxxxx

End


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